


dancing lights

by gourmetpap3r



Series: concentration: required [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate, baldur's gate 3
Genre: First Impressions, M/M, Pining, no beta we illiterate, tea as a metaphor for.. honesty idk, whats sexier than wizards? nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:35:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gourmetpap3r/pseuds/gourmetpap3r
Summary: It went without saying that though the party had grown as close as 6 strangers could during a time of intense stress, they definitely did not share their every thought with one another.But for some time, Gale had been watching Marsh, their reluctant leader. Marsh was like a bright light, drawing people to him just by existing as he was. Like a sun.Gale would be lying if he said he didn't feel the draw, too.or: sometimes first impressions are right, actually.
Relationships: Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s), Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: concentration: required [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147016
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. the magician

**Author's Note:**

> aight boys im rewriting this series, around 95% of it is going to be brand new content, with the remaining 5% carrying over from the first fics i posted on here (now deleted). so im excited to start planning and writing and all that jazz.  
> marsh is pretty much the same if you already knew him! he has some actual character depth now, though, and internal conflicts that will come into play l8r.  
> this series will be oneshots in an overarching plot following along the story of the current early access! anywyay heres some pining??? i guess??
> 
> (still not beta read since theyre technically just drabbles =) )

Gale hadn’t known what to expect when he first encountered Marsh- a colorful person found on a particularly dreary day. Mostly Gale had just wanted to stick with a group as soon as possible, knowing full well he, as a wizard, was particularly exposed compared to a traditional fighter. One hard hit from a goblin and he was toast. With that being said, Gale would've taken any group of people he could've gotten- strength in numbers and all that, but he was glad to have ended with this cast of stowaways- if only for the fact that they managed to actually get .. an amount of stuff done. 

It went without saying that though the party had grown as close as 6 strangers could during a time of intense stress, they definitely did not share their every thought with one another. 

It wasn’t that they intended to lie to each other, but one could only assume it would happen, by sheer nature of them all being human, elf or gith.

Astarion was, blunt, in a way Gale didn’t mind, he was upfront about most things, seemingly viewing other people as entertainment- and as concerning as that was, he would respect their status as travelling companions, at least until a more permanent solution to their tadpole problem showed itself. 

Gale had heard of The Blade of Frontiers before, being a well read man. The Blade was a minor legend at this point, a tale sometimes sung in bustling taverns. Wyll, however, was.. superficial at times, playing a little too much into the role of a *hero*- Gale was unsure if it was due to the expectation from others, or from Wyll himself.

What you saw was what you got with Lae’zel, she was upfront, in a way Gale appreciated, even if he thought her methods to be a bit.. violent at times. He didn’t need to analyze her every word for her intent, she would simply state it. 

Shadowheart was as mysterious as her name. The half-elf was cautious, and it didn’t take long for Gale to come to the conclusion that her discretion wasn’t only attributed to the fact she was among strangers. Her secrecy rang deeper than that, most likely a part of her by now. 

And then there was Marsh, their.. somewhat reluctant leader. Marsh was a strange presence amidst even stranger times. The half-drow was an eyecatcher even from afar. He had possibly the most colorful set of armor one could find on the entire material plane. Astarion had (lovingly, presumably) called him a jester three days back, and it would be a lie to say the claim had no footing. Marsh was way too cheerful given their situation, that had been Gale's initial assessment of his character- surely it couldn't be genuine. Gale didn't enjoy expecting the worst of other people, especially ones he was due to spend the next undetermined amount of time with.

But for some time, Gale had been watching the half-drow, and he’d noticed a few things: Marsh liked people; enjoyed their presence. He would happily crouch down to look the tiefling children in the grove in the eye and show off some card tricks for a mere moments distraction- no matter how much of a waste of time Lae’zel had claimed it to be. 

Marsh was a tad absent-minded, easily distracted and seemed confused at times. He blinked often and heavily, to shield his eyes from bright light, a trait most likely attributed to his drow heritage. He enjoyed sleeping as late as possible and liked smiling, big and bright, canines showing but surprisingly not in a threatening way. His smile always seemed to linger for longer than Marsh himself seemed to notice. And he did notice a lot, always being attentive toward his travelling companions and picking out little knicks and knacks he found all over the place to give to everyone. Not a day went by without Marsh checking in with everyone, even for a brief conversation. Needless to say, Gale's first impression of Marsh seemed mostly correct.

Most of their conversations proved superficial, neither pressing the other for personal info and mostly doing it out of some longing to connect with another person in order to stay sane. The party had made camp for the night, after a long trek from the Druids grove toward the Goblin camp nearby. It was another day's journey at the very least and already the group was exhausted. The previous nights sleep hadn't provided much actual rest for any of them- funny how illithid projections in the middle of your long rest would do that to you. 

Regardless, it wasn’t long after they’d had dinner that Marsh came approaching Gale for their nightly chat. It was an unspoken arrangement that had fallen into place quickly after the party had formed, and it worked for both of them. Marsh enjoyed listening to people talk, and Gale enjoyed talking - be it for mere distraction from the situation at hand or just for company. 

Usually their conversations were fairly one sided, Gale usually telling some form of lighthearted anecdote from his past and Marsh listening attentively, eyes bright and wide. Marsh was a good listener, polite and curious. In a way he’d grown quite fond of him- at the very least grateful he was one of 5 he was stuck with for the time being. One could certainly do worse. 

Which was why it caught him off-guard when Marsh approached him with a more serious look in his eye than normal. The half-drow settled down across from his, closer than normal.

He spoke, voice quieter than normal. It was then the wizard spotted two mugs in the hands of the rogue - actually not so much mugs as they were ceramic cups, given the lack of handles on both. He reached out to hand one to Gale, who accepted it. A quick glance revealed it to be a mug of tea. Gale didn’t even have to speak before Marsh answered the question on his mind;

“I picked it up in the grove earlier.. I think it’s some sort of herbal blend, but I don’t remember what the trader said..” Marsh clarified. Gale held the mug to his lips and took a sip, it was a fairly thin blend with some sort of underlying sweetness to it; probably chamomile. It wasn’t his usual cup of tea but nevertheless, it was a godsend in their situation and especially on a cold night like this. “I have a question for you, if I may.” 

Gale raised a brow, taking the moment to warm his hands on his newly acquired mug. “By all means.”

“You’re a wizard.”

“That is an accurate assessment.” 

“Which means that you studied in order to cast spells?”

“Well, I’ve always had a knack for the arcane, but in broad terms, yes. We wizards don’t rely on a god or patron, we connect straight to the weave through arduous amounts of study. It’s a symbiotic relationship; we have to show the weave respect before we can even think to use it. It’s a lifelong study that is never truly done; we dedicate our entire livelihoods to studying and expanding our horizons.”

“I see, that's very admirable.” An affirmative nod came from the drow.

“Thank you, I'm glad you appreciate the art- not many do.” Gale cocked his head slightly, holding up his free hand and casting dancing lights, letting the three orbs run along his palm and around his fingers. Marsh watched, attentive as ever, eyes big- not unlike a cat in this light. 

“Well, I get why you call it an art.” He stated, glancing back and forth between the fluorescent orbs and the wizard. The drow took a gentle sip of his tea.

Gale let the spell run out, the darkness of the night wrapping its arms around them both again, only the light of the campfire illuminating them now. “Now that we’re on the subject; I saw you casting faerie fire 

“Oh, I don’t think I..” Marsh paused, silent for a moment, thinking. “I’ve never had a teacher, it just came naturally I guess.”

“I suppose some people are born with inherent arcane abilities, particularly people with fey ancestry.” Gale paused, stopping himself from going off on a tangent as he felt it coming. “Needless to say I’m jealous; you cast a near perfect spell with no tutor. You’ve never considered studying to enhance your abilities?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really had the option. I’m not terribly good with magic, any tutor would probably give up on me before I’d even manage a cantrip.” Marsh laughed silently, although not in a way to imply his statement was untrue. “So unless you’d care to teach me, I don’t think so, no.” It was a joke, an offhand remark that might as well have been left unsaid. Nevertheless, it was spoken. Gale thought for a moment.

Would it be so bad, in truth? Marsh was a likeable enough fellow but the weave was dangerous. Not unlike a sailor learning to navigate the ocean, perhaps it was too much responsibility. Gale had felt his grip on the metaphorical helm of his own ship waiving for far too long now. He hummed to himself absentmindedly. 

“Had we not been in one of the biggest predicaments of my entire life, I might have taken you up on that.” Gale explained, shifting his weight underneath him. They both shared a gentle laugh.

“Well. I’m sure you’d have made a great teacher, Gale. You talk about magic with such respect, almost as if it were a lover.” Marsh chuckled at his own comment, unaware of how close to the truth it really was.

Gale pursed his lips, unsure what to say. “Thank you. One never knows.. Let me think about it. Even if I’m not as impressive as I were earlier in life, I might be able to teach you a trick or two, if we find time.”

Marsh’s smile grew two sizes. “I think you’ve very impressive as is; former prodigy or not.”

Gale returned the smile, hoping the dim light hid the slight red tint to his ears. “Overt flirtation will get you everywhere, you know.”

The statement made Marsh avert his gaze, breaking eye contact again as he blinked once, then twice. A minute passed with neither of them speaking, just sitting quietly. “Goodnight, Gale.” 

Gale nodded at Marsh in affirmation, watching as the drow left for his tent and bidding him a quiet: “Goodnight,” in response. 

Gale sat there for a while thinking, until his tea had grown cold and the cold night air began to sting; tiny pricks against his exposed skin. He sighed and rubbed his temples, unsure of what to do now. 

He was sure he’d find out in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the overt flirtation line is STOLEN from fallout new vegas cus i love it so much shoutout to arcade gannon. ANYWAY hello to my 5 readers ily all


	2. the dagger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who are you, really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi gay ppl ! so. the intro fic to this series is now complete! this chapter is basically only infodumping backstory(?) abt marsh so if you hate marsh you can totally skip this chapter no worries!  
> next fic coming in a hot minute i had a lot of this written out already so it might be a bit but .. it will happen i promise (hope)

If you could wake up in a different place, could you wake up a different person?

Marsh had read that somewhere, long enough ago now to be unable to recall where. Yet it lingered somewhere in his mind, behind his currently unseeing eyes as he lay dormant on the ground, unconscious and unmoving. 

If the numb pain pounding in his skull was anything to go by, Marsh figured he must’ve hit his head. He didn’t move, didn’t get up, his body heavy and his skull throbbing. It took but a slow blink until he drifted out of consciousness again, to a dreamless sleep that was more akin to a blackout than actual rest. 

When Marsh came to, he wasn’t sure how long it’d been. As his weight shifted underneath him, he felt wet sand, rough, coarse and stinging against his cheek. He pushed himself to his feet, hit by the taste of copper and sudden lightheadedness as blood rushed from his skull to the rest of his frame. 

_ What in the hells..? _

Taking in his surroundings, Marsh grew increasingly puzzled. Realization dawned on him soon after: he had no idea where he was. A beach, perhaps? Judging by the sand and shoreline he found himself near; that part wasn’t hard. There was a stench of something burning... flesh? 

It was then he spotted it, looking up and all around him: 

The grand, yet sad remains of a nautiloid ship. Easily encompassing the surrounding area for as far as his eyes could see. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to combat the low sun as it burned his retinas. 

Judging from the faint smell of smoke everpresent, the crash of the ship had been fairly recent, less than a day at most. Had he been on it? His memory betrayed him, only managing to procure vague images, as if trying to pull water from an empty well. 

_ Marsh. Your name is Marsh. _ A voice, not quite his own, echoed in his mind. 

He looked from the ship to his surrounding area, dead bodies lying mangled in the sand. He took few, careful steps to move past them. They looked like regular working people, just trying to go about their daily lives before all this. Nausea began building in Marsh’ gut as he grew alarmingly more aware that those bodies might as well have been him. But they weren’t- he was alive, breathing, if only for now. 

Marsh knew two things: 

-His name was Marsh. Probably.

-He was near a shoreline. Probably.

He looked back to the nautiloid ship, its very presence unsettling the half-drow to his core. 

Marsh knew  two three things:

-He had been abducted by mindflayers. Probably.

  
  


It was a start, if nothing else.

  
  


Counting his steps, Marsh eventually came upon an abandoned backpack, previously belonging to one of the many fishermen that had been killed in the crash. He granted himself a look inside. A flask of water, some fruit; nothing grand, and definitely not anything that belonged to him. A quick glance a few feet over revealed the probable owner of it, stone-dead, limbs twisted in the sand.

“I’ll take this.” A pause. “...if it’s okay with you.”

Needless to say, he got no response. 

  
  


_ \-- _

The first couple days following the head trauma proved more hopeful than Marsh had expected. 

He’d been able to place a few blurry memories to a childhood in or around Scornubel, and vague memories of faces that he couldn’t connect with any names. But that was all, it felt less like remembering his past than reading about another person in a book or something. It was strange, alien and scary. He thought it best to keep it to himself, at least for now. 

He’d joined some interesting people since waking up, all pursuing the same goal of finding a healer. 

He quite liked the people he’d joined up with. They were all vividly different people, but for now they shared a common goal. They were a competent group, and the playful banter that Marsh would sometimes overhear as they travelled cemented in the fact that his travelling companions didn’t completely loathe the company of one another. 

Astarion was charismatic, in a way that made Marsh feel special. In spite of the near-death experience that was their initial meeting he had opted to trust the fellow rogue and so far it hadn’t backfired. 

Wyll was nice to him, had paid him a compliment in his fighting technique, and overall seemed to be upfront in his desire to help people. 

Marsh held a lot of respect for Lae’zel. Mostly because of the fact she was fairly intimidating and he didn’t know what to do with himself in her presence. 

Shadowheart kept mostly to herself, and so Marsh didn’t wish to pry. Her resolve was something he admired, and honestly he wished Shadowheart would’ve been their leader rather than himself. 

And then there was Gale. 

Gale was kind to him, and not in the way Wyll was. It was hard to explain, but he could not have been more grateful that their paths had crossed. He was a great conversationalist and Marsh greatly enjoyed their nightly chats, even if they were one-sides at times. It was just so joy-bringing to listen to someone speak about something they were passionate about. He couldn’t help but admire the wizard for his passion. It was like every little thing Gale did had intent behind it. But most of all he had grown to trust him, like every time the two locked eyes mid-battle or during one of their short rests he felt strangely humbled and warm- special. Not in the same way Astarion made him feel special when he was casually flirting with him. But special in the way he just looked for any excuse at all to talk to Gale. 

Which is why he felt like he could- no, should - tell him about his.. predicament separate from the tadpole. It would probably feel good to air it out, just a bit, telling someone about the things bugging you was always a good start. He had wanted to say it the previous night, he’d even made tea for the occasion and yet he froze up. He couldn’t say it. The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was making a mistake by speaking.

What was he supposed to lead with, anyway? _‘Hi_ _Gale_ _just_ _letting_ _you_ _know_ _I genuinely_ _do_ _not_ _remember_ _anything_ _about_ _my_ _life_ _at_ _all_. _Here’s_ _some_ _tea_ , _goodnight’_ ?

Instead he had asked Gale about the one topic he knew he was passionate about like no other, because he knew he could stall for at least that night. 

Marsh was unsure why he was even so nervous about telling Gale in the first place. Surely it wasn’t that serious that he was unable to remember anything prior to waking up on a beach after being an unwilling passenger on a nautiloid. 

Regardless, he felt nervous, and the information certainly felt important. He took several minutes to collect his thoughts after the group had finished having dinner. Tomorrow they’d have to make their way into the goblin camp, and who knows what would happen then? Best get it off his chest now, in case anything happened. It was decided: he would tell Gale. 

He made tea, the same blend as the night prior. He took his time steeping it, almost working purely by muscle memory. He made enough for the entire party and stalled for time as he handed out cups to everyone in the party, except for Gale. The rogue took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts but ultimately being unable to plan out anything. He settled on just improvising on the spot- diamonds were made under pressure, right? ..Right? 

Suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

He stood next to the wizard's usual spot by the campfire, immediately handing off the mug to him and trying very hard not to make eye contact. Instead, he focused his attention on Gale’s beard, it had been days since he’d shaven and with soft grey hairs peeking through here and there, it was starting to get a little unkempt- in a way that made Marsh want to reach out to feel it. To close the gap and run his fingers through it-

Marsh stopped his train of thought as he realized Gale had been speaking.

“..Sorry?”

“I was merely thanking you for the tea.”

“Oh..! Well it’s the least I can do since you practically cook for us every night.” Marsh rubbed the nape of his neck, feeling the tips of his ears turn cold as the wind picked up for a moment. “Could we,” He paused, looking toward the rest of the party. “Go somewhere more private to talk for a bit?”

Gale’s eyebrows raised to form a delicate arch, he blinked a few times; thinking. “I’ve no objections.” He shrugged gently, “But I must admit I am curious what it is you’d like to discuss that requires only four eyes present.”

The two walked a bit to sit on the outskirts of the camp, on a tree log overlooking the shoreline they’d camped next to. With the absence of light, Gale summoned three dancing lights, letting them float above the two. Marsh blinked, the newly summoned bright light too bright. He stalled for a moment, unsure how to start.

“So,” Gale started, sensing the rogue's hesitation to speak. “What did you want to discuss?”

“This might sound weird.” Marsh spoke, more of a warning than anything else. When Gale didn’t object, he continued: “I read somewhere once, that if you wake up in a different place, at a different time, you wake up a different person. Do you think that’s true?”

“For the sake of context,” Gale thought for a moment. “Might I ask what prompted this question?”

“Oh.” Marsh blinked, hesitating, seemingly thinking for a moment. “I haven’t exactly been forthright with you.” 

“I would be surprised had you been, it wasn’t long ago we were but strangers to one another.” 

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but- Well, I didn’t want to tell  _ just  _ you, also the others, but, we talk every night anyway so I figured.” Marsh paused promptly, ostensibly stopping himself from going off on a tangent. “That day we all met, right after the crash, has been the first day I can recall for a very long time.”

Silence. 

“I think I hit my head during the crash. I thought that given enough time it’d just.. Go away but, evidently it hasn’t.” Marsh furrowed his brows, trying hard not to make eye contact with the wizard, he took a sip of his tea, slightly burning the tip of his tongue.

Gale thought for a moment, pondering. The silence of the night seemed deafening and Marsh almost regretted having spoken at all. 

“Well, yeah, that definitely complicates things further. But the odds are already stacked so heavily in our favor I think it matters little at this point.” Gale’s tone was jovial, seemingly having caught onto Marsh’s anxiety regarding the matter. “If it matters, retrograde amnesia isn’t exactly uncommon following severe head trauma, so once we track down Halsin he might be able to do something about it.” 

Marsh remained silent, lips pursed into a tight grimace of shame and confusion. “I guess I just worry about what exactly I’ve forgotten. Maybe I was a completely different person to how I am now.” He paused, unsure of how to best describe the emotions flowing through his chest. “It’s unsettling.” 

“I could imagine so.” Gale reached out to rub Marsh’s shoulder, connecting the two for the moment and letting the drow know he wasn’t alone. Marsh accepted the contact, soft as silk, leaning against it as he exhaled deeply into the night. “For what it’s worth, I happen to think you’re a perfectly pleasant person as you are.” The wizard absentmindedly letting his thumb glide over Marsh’s shoulder, comfortingly. “You haven’t told the others, I’m assuming?”

“No, just you.” 

“Well, colour me honored. I can’t imagine it was easy to confess.”

“I feel like I should’ve told you sooner, though. Argh..” Marsh focused his gaze very thoroughly on his mug and took another sip of tea, the drink having cooled sufficiently enough for him to properly drink by now.

“In my case there are no hard feelings for telling me only now, if it’s where your concern lies.” The wizard spoke; Marsh didn’t have to look at him to know there was that stupid charming smile of comfort on Gale’s face. “I imagine all of us are keeping things from one another, but I’m happy you confided in me. Your trust means a lot.”

Marsh hoped the lack of eye-contact hid the soft red gathering at the tips of his ears, travelling to his cheeks. He tried not to focus on Gale’s hand, still lingering ever so softly on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” The drow managed. 

“This tea is actually pretty good, we’ll have to get more before we leave the grove for good.” Gale withdrew his hand as he spoke, taking another sip from his mug. 

Marsh managed to look at his friend, their eyes meeting in a shared glance. Understanding, hope. Gale’s eyes were big as ever, dark brown that reflected honey in even the tiniest amounts of light. 

They smiled at one another and opted to stay like that for a while, until the night called them to their bedrolls and sleep took hold of them again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quote about waking up as a different person is stolen from fight club so just.. imagine that the fight club novel exists in this universe and that marsh has read it.
> 
> goodnight =)


End file.
